Young Writers Society

"I... need you Eira. I don't just want you anymore - like I did when we first met, when I felt alone, and wanted to play my kind of," I paused, glancing up her. She seemed to be taking me seriously now. I needed that.
"Kiss chase. I suppose the term would be chase, kiss and kill."
Like crushing the burnt rose petals from the flower you looked after so tenderly, I mused, preparing for what was to come. I like to think I know Eira, even if she is adamant that I know nothing about her, that I don't care for her. I've watched her quiet beauty, admired her stubbornness and laughed with her, like I haven't since I was Persuaded. I looked at her in the half light, and took in her clothes, she was still refusing to wear the gowns I'd had made, with black silk the colour of the absence of flames. It didn't matter to me now.

"Want to kill me now, Ash?" Eira asked, raising an eyebrow.
No! I think immediately. Why can't she understand how much I feel for her?
But all the blood, the scattered limbs bathed in pools, and delicate organs, like sheets of wet paper. Tear her apart! You know you can't control the lust.
Oh, how much I long to do it, to kill again, become my monster. To taste that rosebud mouth, to have my teeth graze against those hauntingly beautiful eyes that seem to always be a different colour. To eat her human heart.
"No, Eira. It's what I'm trying to explain, there must be something wrong with me, for me to like you this much, to be able to control the urges I have. I need you to want me too, it's vulnerable and I hate myself for it." I said.
I wish I hadn't started this, I wish I didn't seem so human, so open to her, when she could tell me the words I don't want to hear at any minute. This isn't me, not the hungry Ash I was Persuaded into.

"Oh, so you like me do you? If you like me that much why don't you show it? If you were telling the truth you'd let me go, Ash, because it's what's best for me, I wouldn't be the battered toy you keep in the dark."
Eira stared at me, waiting for an answer. I didn't know what to say, because all the times I've played out the scenarios in my head, it's never gotten this far, to this moment with strands of white blonde hair framing Eira's angry face in the candle light as I struggle to find a reply.

"I think I might love you, Eira. There. Now you know it's true."
I waited. Eira didn't say anything.
"I've loved you every day from the second I chose you, and you've been the only thing I can think about since then. I think I'll love you forever, even if you choose to ignore everything I've said, I won't care, because nothing can change that, change us," I said, taking her hand, and holding it tighter when she didn't pull away. I couldn't help but marvel at the bone structure, the muscle tissue, the soft smattering of freckles that wouldn't make a difference in taste.
"Still, I don't believe that seven days a week is enough for me to love you, to hold you. I promise you that I'll make it eight days - even if you don't love me too - and name the eight day Eiraday, to prove my devotion."

A tear slid down Eira's cheek, as she let go of my hand.
"Ash, I-I don't love you. I don't think I'll ever be able to, after what you've done. Maybe before, if you hadn't forced me into this..." she said as she stood up.
I sat frozen - she didn't love me, what was I thinking? I've been so foolish. I blinked as I felt a tear. Stopping it in it's tracks, I brang it to my lips, it tasted bitter and salty, just as human emotion would.
"I'll give you a week. If you want to go home Eira, you can - there's no point in keeping you here any longer." I said, regretting it the moment I heard the words.
Whatever humanity I'd had left had broken in two, my heart spilling from the inside, emotion seeping through the cracks like rain through a ripped umbrella.
I waited till she left to cry. To cry because I hadn't wanted to when I was hurting and the Persuaders watched. To cry because I was stupid, I was meant to kill, to hurt, to laugh at pain, to eat her and not need her like a breakable mortal.


I looked at where Eira had been sitting, and imagined feeling that all too alive pulse, having her blood trickle slowly out of my mouth, running my tongue over her torn and damaged brain, and biting at her toes as she begs for mercy, telling me she cares.

Maybe I'll eat again. Maybe even eight days a week.

This is amazing! I don't even think the word 'amazing' can describe it well enough! There are a few grammar errors but aside from that it is flawless! I really love how nothing is explained right away. It builds the mystery. And plus Ash seems like a really awesome guy for a main character! He seems very dark but he has love in his heart-I love characters like those!Excellent job!

this is really good

Tinkembell,

First off, I'd just like to say I love The Beatles. So, great song choice! I was surprised with the direction that this took, though. When I think of eight days a week, or the Beatles in general, I think of happy, bubbling people. The song itself makes me want to sway my head from side to side, and it just makes me want to smile and dance whenever I hear it.

So this is an unexpected approach to the song, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, so I'm curious to know your thought process/ideas when coming up with this ^-^ The story itself exhibits a tone completely opposite to the song. I found it pretty melodramatic and intense at times with the eating-imagery. The eating imagery itself was disgustingly horrifying in a good way. As someone inspired by Goya and Poe, and as someone who loves macabre stories as much as I do, I give you a thumbs up for that.

You say the contest is for short-stories, right? I'd like to know then what Persuaders are...? This has the pace and style of something longer, like the start of a novel, rather than a short story. Mostly, because I've little idea who the characters are (I don't even know what they look like, or any characteristics about them. In fact, the only thing this story elaborates is the relationship between them, and even that is sort of vague). Also, what was meant with the "persuaders" element. I thought that bit introduced some supernatural or fantasy elements, which is interesting, but keep in mind that a short story shouldn't leave any gaps or loose strings. I'd like to know who these people are and what they do.

Grammar:

I paused, glancing up at her.

"The kissing chase. I suppose the term would be chase, kiss and kill.

Kiss chase seems weird. Maybe turn that into a gerund?

It was like crushing the burnt rose petals from the flower you looked after so tenderly, I mused, preparing for what was to come.

I'm all for fragments, but don't overload your story with them. It's important to keep a flow to the story, while staying clear with what you want to say. Sometimes these fragments make things unclear. Sometimes these fragments ruin the flow and they read like abrupt bumps along the road of the story. Read things aloud and see if that helps you place them.

"...like I haven't since I was Persuaded."

Kind of an awkward phrase. Did you mean, "I laughed with her like I haven't laughed since..."

she was still refusing to wear the gowns I'd had made

But all the blood, the scattered limbs bathed in pools, and delicate organs, like sheets of wet paper.

...? What? Read this aloud. All the blood, limbs, and organs what...? Tear her apart? It should be one sentence, then.

I wish I hadn't started this; I wish I didn't seem so human, so open to her, when she could tell me the words I don't want to hear at any minute.

This isn't me. I am not the hungry Ash I was Persuaded into.

"Oh, so you like me do you? If you like me that much why don't you show it? If you were telling the truth you'd let me go, Ash, because it's what's best for me, I wouldn't don't want to be the battered toy you keep in the dark."

I didn't know what to say. because Of all the times I've played out the scenarios in my head, it's never gotten this far. I'm not sure what you mean to say with this part. Slightly confusing -> to this moment with strands of white blonde hair framing Eira's angry face in the candle light as I struggle to find a reply.

Run-on. Let each sentence express 1 idea.

and name the eight day, Eiraday, no comma here to prove my devotion.

Stopping it in it's tracks, I brang it to my lips

See, now I was confused. I thought Ash was the one who was crying, as you said "I felt a tear" Maybe you can say that he saw the tear sliding down Eira's face...?

"I'll give you a week. If you want to go home Eira, you can - there's no point in keeping you here any longer," I said,

Whatever humanity I had left had broken in two

I looked at where Eira had been sitting, and imagined feeling that all too alive pulse, having her blood trickle slowly out of my mouth, running my tongue over her torn and damaged brain, and biting at her toes as she begs for mercy, telling me she cares.

Ew. 8D What horrifying descriptions.

So, I am loving the eating-imagery. I am loving also the magnetic attraction between Eira and Ash, I only wish for you to expand on that! Not on the physical attraction itself, but on each individual character. Really get us to feel these characters, make us care for them, that way their actions are emphasized and dramatic. As it is now, it feels like it is lacking something, and that is character development. Get into their shoes, girl. You are a great writer, this just needs some focus.

I wish you luck!

~ As always Audy

Hey, Tink.

I've finally made it. Sorry for the delay. Allow me to jump right in.

So as for your opening paragraph, I have a few complaints. My major complaint, is that this seems very unstably written. The tense in which this is written and the view point aren't strong enough to set me inside the proper opening of a solid story. It all seemed rather flimsy. The dialogue especially. I wasn't a great fan of the way you went about it. My best advice would be to attempt to be a bit more clear with your direction. I can vaguely pick up on what you're getting at and going on about, but when I read, I want it to be effortlessly understood. I don't want to have to try too hard to know what you're trying to say. I just want to know, and to be able to take in the essence of the writing in itself rather than be even the slightest bit misguided or confused. Otherwise, this causes me to want to move on to reading something else I'll adapt to much better.

On a side note, when you write: "Like crushing the burnt rose petals from the flower you looked after so tenderly..." this was beautiful. I loved it. I would encourage you to inject more coherent, poetic thought like this into your writing. It's very Beatles, indeed. <3 I see you have for the most part, but it feels a tad clouded by surrounding writing. Smooth it out a little.

Now, I see this is for a contest and you based it off of a Beatles song. I LOVE the Beatles. I don't think there's a stronger word than love. But to be honest, I'm not sure this sent of that sort of vibe in a larger sense. You had some interesting littler pieces of writing that mirrored lyrically beautiful Beatles essence, but as a whole, I find it entirely detached. I don't think you quite hit the nail on the head with this one. Which is disappointing. The concept of love is present, granted it be cannibalistic love? It's there, but it's just too far out there to ring true to the music. Though, this is simply my own take on it.

"I... need you Eira. I don't just want you anymore - like I did when we first met, when I felt alone, and wanted to play my kind of--" I paused,

I felt like there should've been a more visible break in dialogue here.

admired her stubbornness and laughed with her, like I haven't since I was Persuaded.

I'm not sure why persuaded is capitalized here. You also capitalize it further down the way as well. Then near the end of the story it seems these "Persuaders" are people. The context is used differently though. I'm sure this confuses others just as well as it confuses me.

I looked at her in the half light, and took in her clothes(.) She was still refusing to wear the gowns I'd [i] had made, with black silk the colour of the absence of flames.

Oh, how much I long to do it, to kill again, become my monster.

Why do you say, 'become my monster'. 'Become a monster' would be fine

I need you to want me too(.) It's vulnerable and I hate myself for it."

I didn't know what to say, because all the times I've [I'd] played out the scenarios in my head, it's it had never gotten this far, to this moment with strands of white blonde hair framing Eira's angry face in the candle light as I struggle(d) to find a reply.

I've I'd been so foolish.

Your tenses are all mixed up. It's rather distracting, but I won't correct them all. They should be easy to spot, analyze, and fix yourself if you go back through and take your time with correcting it all.

Stopping it in it's tracks, I brang brought it to my lips(.) It tasted bitter and salty, just as human emotion would.

Another note I would like to bring up is the fact that in a few places, it almost seems as though you don't know quite where to stop the sentence. There're too many run-ons for this piece to sound smooth in that sense. Again, look for things as I've pointed out above, and correct them before you move onto tweaking any content.

Whatever humanity I'd had left had broken in two(;) my heart spilling from the inside, emotion seeping through the cracks like rain through a ripped umbrella.

Right here you say my heart is spilling. Spilling what? Your imagery and the metaphorical coherency of this seems to be faltering a bit. It's only half there. Also, you say "ripped umbrella". I don't like the word "ripped" here. It's so vanilla and doesn't do anything for the simile. Torn might be better.

I found the ending a bit odd. You seemed to contradict such brave emotions, which honestly, leaves an odd taste in my mouth. So I'm not too fond of the ending, though I'm not sure how it could be improved. As I've mentioned earlier on, this doesn't feel very much like Beatles, and the only thing I got from this being similar to the Beatles was the interesting choice lines you inserted and the very last line, "Maybe even eight days a week". The story seems like it could be interesting, Beatles aside, though it's still a bit "almost-there" to me.

Well, I hope anything I mentioned may be of some help to you. Please don't be offended if anything I said might've come off harsh in any way! I really think you belted out an interesting piece derived from inspiration from a great song. Nice job either way. Keep up the writing, Tink.

-Smylin'